


Dilute

by orphan_account



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blood, Comics/Movie Crossover, Counted Word Fic, F/M, Flash Fic, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Minor Character Death, Vampire Peter Parker, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 08:40:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20224978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ichor is the clear fluid that runs through the veins of the gods. Most poetic types know that. What no one ever asks is this: where, oh where, do these 'gods' go to get their fill of red?Counted Word Fic. 800 Words.





	Dilute

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thebetterbina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebetterbina/gifts).

The first time Tony Stark meets Peter Parker, he looks like prey.

The boy can’t be more than fourteen or fifteen at the most, and he’s pink-cheeked and polite under Norman Osborn’s hand. Leave it to Norm to bring anyone other than his son to the gala, which has been themed _ Legacies & Futures_.

Leave it to Norm to lead a teenager around with a proprietary hand perpetually on the boy’s shoulder or even, once that Tony has so far spotted, at the small of his back.

Tony’s not sure why he was looking for that.

(That’s a lie; he knows why.)

The thing is, Osborn has always reminded him of Obie; they were both close talkers, expensive dressers, and eager to exert their dominance over the ones most beholden to them. And Peter is beautiful—and certainly beholden—if the kid’s guileless, _ ingénu _ act is to be believed. He seems unused to the suit Norm has poured him into.

If there’s anything Tony can do to keep someone else from suffering as he suffered under his own mentor’s hand, then. Well. When you can do the things that Tony—or Tony’s inventions—can do, and you don’t…

“Well, hello there Osborn. Who’s the pup?” Tony blusters his way into the conversation, just like Dad taught him. “No Harry tonight?” he adds for good measure.

It makes Norm’s smile go sharp and the kid’s cheeks go pink again, so Tony’s gonna deem that one a good call.

“Hey, I. I’m Peter. Parker,” the boy introduces himself, tacking on his last name at the last second, and _ oh _ that stutter. Poor thing has no business being dropped into this den of sharks.

“Tony,” is all he says in reply, meaning to put everyone at ease. There’s no reason sweet Peter should suffer later for Tony’s incessant need to rile up his business rivals.

***

The next time they meet, three years later, Peter is newly seventeen and taller now, dressed all in black. It’s a funeral, for Harry Osborn. He and Peter must have been close.

It’s overcast, matching the somber mood, but the kid still cleaves to his sunglasses, and what little sun there is seems to be hurting him. Tony wonders if it’s because loss does that to people, makes them sensitive to all things happy in the world and the sheer, raw incongruity of something like the sun existing in a world that seems to have all the light and happiness sucked out of it. Or maybe Peter’s eyes are just dry from crying.

Either way, Tony thinks back to a clear, cold December day, decades-old now. He empathizes.

“I’m not gonna say he’s in a better place, or anything,” Tony starts. He’s met with the glint of Peter’s sunglasses, wind-bitten face turning towards him, and nothing else. “But, well. At least he won’t be ill anymore? I’m already working with the Stark Medical team to put together a presentation. Maybe a joint venture with Oscorp, who knows? Unless you think it’d be too soon-”

“This has been a long time coming, Mr. Stark,” Peter says quietly.

Tony feels bad, but he doesn’t really know what to say. He just nods and figures he can have Pepper send flowers or something. Christ, he’s no better at condolences now than when he was twenty-one and on the receiving end.

He goes in search of Norm, thinking it the right thing to do. Besides, if he stands next to Mr. Parker for too long there will be tabloids everywhere either screaming about Peter being his love-child—stolen by the Osborns at birth! Hidden by the mysterious Parker family!—or worse.

Tony’s learned not to court the _ Bugle _’s attention by now.

And, for all their differences (and there are many), Tony thinks no one should have to suffer the loss of both a wife and a child in their lifetime. He expects they’ll make stilted conversation for several minutes, Tony will offer his sympathy and make a donation to Harry’s memorial endowment, and that will be that.

What he doesn’t expect is to walk into a bathroom, away from the crowd at the wake, and see Osborn bent over the blonde-haired and bereaved girlfriend of his late son.

Gwen Stacy’s blood is staining the marble top of the vanity and oh _ god _ (is her neck _ broken_?) what can Tony do-

“Peter?” Osborn says, before he looks up. When he does, though, Tony can see his mouth, chin, and throat are awash in red. No wonder the businessman had stripped out of his shirt and pants. (_Yes, that must be the reason, _ Tony’s mind insists. _ Don’t think about the girl’s skirt being ripped to the waist_.)

Tony runs, hoping the predator will not follow. _Predator._ He wonders what that makes Peter.

(Besides bad-ass.)


End file.
